Bury The Castle
by Olive Tree Hugger
Summary: "You were always a woman to me, Korra." /first-time Makorra/slight lemons.


The air was cool, tingling against her still hot and sweaty skin; she was grateful for it. Her brown flesh was littered with goose bumps as she walked timidly outside. The moon was full, yellowish and round—a simple dot in the black-blue night sky. She fled down the streets, cursing her wobbly legs the whole way. It didn't help that her thighs stuck to each other, slapping against each other and making sounds that reminded her of the sin she'd just committed a few moments ago. Her night dress clung to her, much like a second body had clung to her earlier. She hated the way it hitched up her legs. The faster she walked, the more it moved up, and around, curling around her form like his hands did.

The streetlights illuminated the streets with a soft orange glow, creating a shadowy blanket for the city, like a new persona all together. It certainly didn't feel the same. Republic City was a new place during the night, much like Korra. She shivered, and found it a delicious sensation. That ticklish, bubbly sense that spread from the crown of her head to her fingers to her thighs left her breathless. It was so much like his tongue on her neck, before his hot breath, surely the breath of fire, left its impression on her. It made her skin tingle as her hair stood on end. It was mouthwatering; Korra craved that electric fire again.

It was her, it was _all_ her. She'd had too many fire whiskeys, and Mako tried to put her off. She remembered his leathery gloves pressing on her bared skin, his soft voice chastising, "You're drunk, Korra. I can't do this to you."

But she kept going. Korra could hold her liquor pretty well and pulled the fire bender flush to her, rubbing him in all the places she knew men liked. Soon, the protective barrier Mako had built between him and his girlfriend had collapsed and he was just as aroused as she was. His rough, hard fingertips grazed her skin, leaving a trail of electricity behind. He cupped and squeezed her curves, making her shiver. Korra had liked the sudden gentleness he displayed as he slipped his hand into her pants.

Mako carefully and sweetly cupped her apex, noting the dryness. Korra felt a little shy about it, acting so turned on when she wasn't even damp enough, but it didn't stop the husky fire bender. He didn't play with her, thumb her in the strategically placed bundle of nerves—he rubbed the outer labia, gently tugging the short and coarse hairs that curled there. Korra, brain muddled with liquor and nervousness, mewed in delight.

Now, Korra was livid with herself. A woman's privates, her mother had told her, were her greatest assets. A respectable young woman of the Southern Water Tribe was to keep her body's secrets hidden, only to let her husband discover them when the time came. Her body had been ravaged. Her innocence was taken. Her parents would be enraged, but not as much as she was. She was ashamed. So ashamed, even when she wriggled out of her pants, she felt a blush spread throughout her skin. His golden eyes roamed over her form, not like a hungry polar bear-dog eyeing a piece of meat, but like an awestruck spectator looking at a rainbow. It made her confident enough to nudge his temple with her toe, giggling, and gesturing towards her abdomen with a coy smile.

He complied eagerly.

The memory made Korra's knees buckle and she had to sit down. She wrapped her arms around herself and approached a bench on the sidewalk. As she settled onto it, Korra sighed because of the cool metal. It soothed the soreness and burning sensation she felt between her legs, after all the probing Mako decided to do. And when she tried to cross her legs, she felt as though his black head was still there, still holding down her hips. Her legs snapped back open, spreading until a comfortable eight inches sat between them.

Since when was she comfortable with open legs? Most of her life, no matter where she was, her mother taught her to sit with her legs closed. She didn't like feeling her labia spreading by themselves, pulling apart from each other. It'd been a gross prospect to her. But now, she loved the idea. It was that tantalizing and luscious desire, his tongue and warm breath and sharp teeth grazing her flesh. Korra found herself grunting in sheer _want _for it.

But she was sober now. She was an _adult._ The Avatar, for Koh's sake! What was she doing, gallivanting with a man and opening her legs for him, letting him kick her defenses down, and plowing right through her barriers? She was dishonorable. Korra let her body go, and for that, she would be punished. Koh might steal her face, or worse, Mako's, for their reckless behavior. Aang would neglect her. The city would find out and label her a bed hopping slut. She already felt like one.

Part of her justified, _you are a grown woman. Your body is yours to do whatever you like. If you want Mako to bury his face into your pelvic hair, or slip his member in you, then damn it, you have the right, no, the _honor_! You don't have to be the innocent little girl they see you as. _

She took a deep breath, feeling her eyes burn. She looked up, the orange glow of the lights and the dark shadows of the streets blending together in a blur. A tear escaped her eyes, clinging to her eyelashes for a moment before falling. Then, her eyes overflowed with tears, leaving salty streaks in their wakes as they streamed down.

It had hurt. The first minute, she had her eyes clenched and jaw taut as she endured his slow and shallow thrusts. It felt unnatural. It stung. Mako had kissed her hair and neck and cheek, murmuring, "Try….try to relax."

She couldn't. It was her first time and it hurt like hell. It was only near the end that it started to feel nice. The pain melted into muted pleasure, the feeling of dragging skin against skin made her head swim. All vocabulary, all logic and sense left her mind and she was boggled with happiness. She didn't reach that much-appraised explosion of pleasure, there were no lights behind her eyelids, it wasn't the best experience ever, but knowing that Mako got to feel it made her feel a bit better about it.

Korra didn't cry out loud as she sat on the bench. The tears fell with abandonment, but nothing else escaped her. Not a sigh, not a wail, not a contorted brow. Silent tears, just like her first time. Realization as it crept into her mind. She was no longer a child. Her juvenile, childish ways were gone. That was the old Korra.

All the snow castles she'd built with her father in the South Pole, all the burping contests she and Bolin held, the late nights giggling with Asami over nail polish and popcorn; she would have to kick away those memories until they were dust. Forgotten. Dead.

A shape, a tall shape appeared in the corner of Korra's eyes, though the blur made it impossible to notice his growing size. Soon, however, the sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing echoed throughout the night and the girl turned her head to see who had come to wallow with her in sadness.

Pale skin, black hair, concerned eyebrows, red scarf; it was Mako. He panted as he approached her, muttering, "_There_ you are."

Korra blinked up at him. "You were looking for me?" She asked.

He nodded, desperately gasping, "All over the damn city. Why did you leave?"

A shrug. "You were asleep."

His eyes glowed and a smile appeared. "Aw," he cooed, "Did you want to cuddle?" With a soft chuckle, he quickly moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tensed, edging away from him. Mako's expression turned crestfallen. "Korra," he started gently, "What…." He looked her over, her solemn expression, her crouched form. It clicked. "Did I hurt you?" He asked.

_You didn't tear anything,_ she thought. _And I didn't bleed. _She blinked again, "A little."

He exhaled softly, probably angrily. "I'm so sorry, Korra. I didn't mean to—"

"I know," she replied just as softly, "It was supposed to be good."

"Was it?" He asked, scooting closer.

She smiled. Mako smiled too. He leaned in to kiss her, whispering, "You are perfection."

Korra allowed the gesture, coyly blushing, muttering, "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Mako cupped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. "You were always a _woman_ to me, Korra. A strong, gorgeous, scary woman."

The girl let an unceremonious chortle escape her lips. A woman, she thought. Was that it? She didn't change. She didn't die and become a new person.

She'd just buried her snow castles in a safe place. No longer of use to her were these castles, but they were still a memorable and significant aspect of her persona.

Mako nuzzled her neck. She smiled.

She was all woman. All _Korra._

* * *

**Guess where I got this idea from? Brick By Boring Brick by Paramore. Listen to the lyrics closely and tell me it doesn't sound like some "breaking the hymen/losing innocence" innuendo. Because it did to me. **


End file.
